


A World Of Difference

by ambushedbycroats



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Kid Fic, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-04
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-07 08:58:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1117997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambushedbycroats/pseuds/ambushedbycroats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is a response to a challenge found here: http://ksarchive.com/modules/challenges/challenges.php?chalid=293 or it goes by the same name as the story on the ksarchive. In this story, Spock grows up on Earth as opposed to Vulcan, and this should have various effects on his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Stitch

**Author's Note:**

> This is more of a prologue than anything else, I just didn't want to call it the prologue as it is a very major thing to happen.

For a human, these symptoms would probably constitute a stitch, or in the worst cases, maybe appendicitis. However, as Sarek supressed a pained grimace that was threatening his controls, he knew what this ‘stitch’ meant. This pain in his side had nothing to do with a build-up of lactic acid. His heart was malfunctioning, as only a Vulcan’s could. Concern that wasn’t his seeped through his mind, reminding him of what he could lose if he gave way to his slowing organs. What would it do to Amanda and his child to have him ripped from their lives? He had to fight whatever was overwhelming his body. An alarm sounded in his head. When did Sarek of Vulcan ever refer to anything as ‘whatever’? As he lay on his hard mattress, with barely a pillow to put his head on, he utilised his eidetic memory, recalling countless happy, and yes, he would admit to having been happy, moments with his beloved. Amanda was his true _ashaya_ and not his previous wife. Slow evenings spent in Amanda’s presence flitted through his receding mind. His closeness with she who was his wife was so special to him, even if his Vulcan stoicism didn’t allow for him to show it. She knew, and that consoled him. There couldn’t be long left, as his thoughts turned to their son. Spock was a unique child, that was certain. As the first Vulcan-Human hybrid ever, many requests had been made to study and observe his development. However, Amanda was adamant that their son would not be subjected to feeling like an experiment. Spock seemed to encompass all that Sarek found special in his Amanda, and all that she apparently found special in him. As his final moments were upon him, he sent Amanda every positive feeling he had ever felt, as most had been caused by her and their son. An armada of emotions flowed through their bond, pushing on the limits of Amanda’s psi-null mind. The _katra_ moved on, its work done.


	2. Quashed

Her mind both imploded and exploded, combusting into hot, green flame. Her soul was in fragments, small enough that any possibility to rebuild it would surely be futile. Her heart pounded in her chest, increasing the pain in her ribs as her breathing increased. Hot sweat beaded on her forehead and in the small of her back as her knees gave way, her behind landing noisily on the metallic floor. Sarek. Sarek was gone. This was worse than when he had nearly been sold by Orions. Not only was their bond blocked, but it was broken, frayed, smashed like glass. Someone rushed to her side, trying to get her attention. Couldn’t they see that she wasn’t listening, didn’t _want_ to listen? How could anyone be able to speak with Sarek gone? Sarek, who was _her_ rock when she was in trouble, who was _always_ there to offer the logical solution. Torn from her. How could the world carry on with this catastrophe ruining her entire existence? Her _katra_ cried out for that which it had lost, but it cried in vain. Something wet hit her cheek. Tears? But she wasn’t crying. The pain was too deep, too soul-wrenching for tears. Who, then, could be crying?

 

\  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \ /  /

 

Panic showing in his young eyes, Spock knelt next to his mother. “ _Ko-mekh_? Can you hear me?” Something was terribly wrong, but he couldn’t discover what it was. His mother’s face had gone from delighted and love-struck to pained and heart-broken in the space of seconds. His _sa-mekh_ had been right, humans are highly illogical. His mother didn’t respond, and he could tell through their tenuous familiar link that her mind was shrivelling up, as if it had lost its primary life source. He nudged the link nervously, wary of breaking the privacy laws. There was no response. As he felt his mother draw away from him and into herself, Spock’s highly intelligent, Vulcan mind came up with the only logical answer. Her mind _was_ being starved of its primary life source, his father. Tears welled up in his all too human eyes, and he wept uncontrollably for his _sa-mekh_ and the grief of his _ko-mekh_.

 

\  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \ /  /

 

Spock awoke in his bed, with the harsh sunlight of Vulcan streaming though the gap between the two curtains, and a pounding headache. He pondered the reasons behind both of these phenomena, as every night he was sure to bring the curtains together so that no illumination made its way into his room. Headaches were an almost unheard of occurrence on Vulcan, excepting those who had recently lost a bond-mate. Tears threatened again as he remembered why he had this dehydration-induced headache. Sarek was dead. Amanda would be distraught. He would have to meditate immediately in order to ‘remain strong’ for her benefit, as she did not have the ability to supress her emotions as he could. He slipped out of bed and onto his meditation matt, inhaling deeply the incense that permeated the air.

 

\  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \ /  /

 

Unaccounted-for days passed as she lay in her bed, to large now for just her, and thought of Sarek. She remembered his not-smile, the way his love for her came out in his eyes, the eyes which Spock had inherited. She recalled his barely contained glee at having conceived Spock, and his carefully maintained supportiveness throughout the pregnancy and the birth. It hadn’t been easy, having a half-Vulcan half-Human hybrid inside of her. She had needed to take copper supplements, as Spock’s blood was green and copper-based, like Sarek’s. The baby’s superior strength which had bruised a rib more than once had proved a constant worry her her over-protective _sa-telsu_.

 

Her cheeks began to hollow as she stopped eating, having lost her appetite along with her soul. Her skin changed from its previous graceful pallor to a sickly yellow, feeling almost papery beneath her fingers. Nobody said grieving was good for the body, only the mind. Premature wrinkles began to spread over her face, frown-lines creasing her brow. She had not yet cried. There was no reason to cry. Countless times her body had been racked by dry sobs, yet no tears had come. They would come soon enough, she was sure of it. Just as soon as the shell-shock wore off, the tears would come like rain, flowing until there were none left to fall. Her fingers trembled slightly as she thought about what she would have to do next. When Spock had fallen asleep, exhausted by his grief, she had mustered just enough energy to put her pre-pubescent child into bed and shuffle into her own bedroom. Her hands shook as the idea of years without her soul-mate loomed over her. She would have to decide what to do with Spock, the only thing she had left of her _sa-telsu_. She had two paths that she could go down, the Vulcan way, or the Human. There were merits to both, but there were also problems. It seemed however, that one would have to prevail over the other, as they could not easily co-exist, not for the long-term anyhow. It was a shame for Spock that his two sides seemed to clash so impossibly. The Human way of embracing emotion, positive or negative, was directly at odds with the Vulcan method of suppression and control. Suddenly, a new, nerve-wracking prospect made itself known. Spock was now the direct heir to the House of Surak, the highest house on Vulcan, founded by the master and saviour of the Vulcan people. This would weigh more on his shoulders as he would be expected to govern over the prestigious house in years to come, settling disputes and making decisions. He would be the Solomon for Vulcan. Bringing their son up the Vulcan way was the way that Sarek had intended, and it would honour and preserve his memory. But could Amanda cope with a child that was so like his father, despite her influences? She wasn’t sure, but she couldn’t let Spock know of her inner conflict, and she _needed_ to be able to love her son in the manner he deserved, and not allow the memory of his _sa-mekh_ to get in the way.

 

Where would they live? Could they stay on Vulcan, or would it be better to move back to Earth, or even to a colony somewhere? She had to stay with her son, wherever they lived, she would _not_ send him off to a boarding school or anything like that. She had to overcome her emotional distress and show Spock how she loved him, regardless of anything he may do. She could not afford for her son to fear to talk to her or to believe that his father’s memory hindered the relationship between them.  As the only thing she had left of Sarek, she would cherish Spock.

 

She settled down into the bed, allowing the thoughts of loving Spock to overtake the anguish at losing Sarek. Slowly, she slipped into the blissful realms of a dreamless sleep.

 

\  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \ /  /

 

Spock’s eyes fluttered open, the smell of cinnamon toast warming him, a fuzzy feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. He sat up in bed, seeing the face of his _ko-mekh_ in the doorway. He smiled with his eyes, “Good morning _ko-mekh_ ,” he said, expressing the unsaid words in his chocolate-brown eyes. A small but meaningful smile broke the pain-ridden face as she entered his room, laying on his lap the tray which held a plate full of cinnamon toast. She sat down tentatively as her son took to the task of devouring the home-made breakfast. “Spock honey,” she spoke softly, as if afraid she would break her vocal chords, “I have been thinking about what we should do next, after…” there was an audible tremor in her voice as she quickly changed the subject. “Would it be possible to have a logical input for my overly illogical ideas?” Spock’s expression changed. It was slight, but it was there, and it instilled a confidence in Amanda which she had thought she had lost. Small tears appeared in the corners of her eyes for the first time in weeks. “Of course, mother, how can I be of assistance?” She was quiet for a time, considering her words carefully, debating the best way to approach the subject. “Spock, due to your Father’s… umm…” she struggled to find the correct sentence, but Spock was there. Spock understood. “You have been thinking about my upbringing and our future planet of residence, have you not Mother?” Her clouded eyes cleared in the knowledge that her son understood her so well. The change did not go unnoticed by Spock, and neither did the twitch of the corners of his mouth to his mother. “Mother,” Spock began, “I will support you in whichever direction you go, and I will endeavour to help you in areas in which you are lacking.” The subtle way in which her son had referenced the death of her husband brought yet more tears to her eyes. She sighed at the selfless support that her broken son was giving her, and she felt a twinge of guilt. She should be there for her son, not the other way around. “Spock,” she breathed deeply, gathering herself, “I believe I would like to move to Earth. Permanently.” Spock placed his hand on Amanda’s, a silent pledge of aid. She kept going, “And I think I want to bring you up both able to show emotions, and to control dangerous ones.” She closed her eyes, praying for him to be able to cope with the drastic change in situation. “Mother,” he stopped. “Mummy?” He corrected himself hesitantly, wondering whether he had understood her meaning and used the term correctly. Her eyes opened, full of shock, appreciation and gratitude, “Spock!” she exclaimed, and hugged him tight, stroking his blue-black hair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read in a fanfic somewhere that cinnamon toast is Spock's favourite comfort food, were he to have something so illogical, so I'm sorry if it's you that I stole it off, I just liked the idea.
> 
> sa-mekh is the vulcan for father
> 
> ko-mekh is the vulcan for mother
> 
> sa-telsu is the vulcan for husband


	3. Smiling To The Future

The steady hum spread from the tips of his toes to the ends of his fingers. His meditation was disturbed as the passenger ship vibrated into life. He looked up from his folded hands and saw his home recede into the inky black of space. Spock wasn’t sure what he felt at seeing the only place he knew face into nothingness. There was a twinge of sadness at the idea of never returning, but there was an equally potent, if not stronger feeling of relief. He would no longer have to endure the tedious attempts of his peers to make him show his emotions. Remembering what his mother had said, he searched for a facial expression that would accurately express his conflicting emotions. His mother’s face appeared in his mind. The sad smile she had given him upon his greeting. His lips parted in his attempt to portray his thoughts. As he saw his faint reflection in the ‘porthole’ he was surprised at how natural it appeared. He turned around to face his mother, the smile growing larger every second, along with hers.

 

\  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \ /  /

 

That smile. That absolute break-away from every custom he knew. Her half-Vulcan son was smiling at her, clearly telling her about every emotion in his head. It was a sight to behold, a true, Vulcan smile. Sarek had smiled once. _Once_. The memory of it was so precious, even before…

 

It had happened on the day that they had discovered that Amanda was successfully pregnant. The occasion also fell on their tenth wedding anniversary, whether Vulcans celebrated anniversaries or not. As soon as they had arrived in the privacy of their home he had taken Amanda in his arms, kissed her, and smiled. He had told her that he loved her that night. Of course he had said it the Vulcan way, _Taluhk nash-veh k’dular_ (I cherish thee), but he had never said it the Human way. That was one of the most special moments of her life, paralleled by when she had met Sarek, their wedding/bonding day and Spock’s birth.

 

She reached down and pulled Spock to her, surrounding him in an embrace, conscious of the emotions seeping through their touch. She focused her thoughts on how much she loved this small miracle in her arms, and how much she had loved, still did love, his father.  Waves of love and appreciation came back at her, overcoming her weak, human shields. She gazed down at her son who held her gaze, a quiet confidence shining in his eyes. As if having read her thoughts, which he may well have done, he spoke, “ _ko-mekh_ , _taluhk nash-veh k’dular_. Mummy, I love you” and wrapped his arms around her neck, holding her even tighter.

 

Her thoughts turned back to her own experiences, and how she had fared, first on Earth, and subsequently, Vulcan. On Earth, she had been accepted, as a general rule, but would Spock have the same privilege? Would his life be more like hers upon her move to Vulcan, where, despite the philosophy of IDIC (Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations) there had been some degree of social exclusion and condescension? She hoped that he would be able to be unconditionally accepted by his peers, but somehow she knew that not everyone would understand. Sometimes, school children are the worst at adapting to change. She knew that her son’s Vulcan appearance would no doubt make matters more difficult, as he would stand out more than any others in his year group. Perhaps she would enrol him in an inter-species school, where he would be more likely to find others in similar situations. If he were surrounded by those who would physically out-shine him, such as Andorians, his ears and eyebrows would be much less conspicuous. However, amongst other species Vulcans were considered to have superior intellect, and Spock himself was thought of as a genius, having already passed some of the Vulcan Science Academy pre-entrance exams. He would need to have special treatment due to him already knowing the entire sixth grade syllabus.

 

The musings changed direction, towards Starfleet. Could Starfleet provide the stimulus that Spock clearly needed? It didn’t mean that he’d have to go to the Academy. Or into space. No, she couldn’t deal with that. He could just attend some of the classes on physics, maths, and xenolinguistics and so on. Their education facilities were renowned throughout the galaxy. She would do everything in her power to ensure the best education for her obviously gifted son, no matter the cost.

                                                                                    

Where would they live? Would they stay in San Francisco, where Starfleet Headquarters was located; or would they move to New Chicago, her birthplace? If Spock were to have tuition from Starfleet, it would be best to remain in San Francisco. Well, that was one eventuality. There was family in New Boston, but did she want to see family, who would surely treat her with sympathy and regret. Vulcans were much better for her grief at the time; they wouldn’t show any false emotions, or any emotions full stop. She could be strong around Vulcans; it was Humans who were difficult. It would all work out, it always did. Didn’t it?

 

Her mind abruptly stopped its downward spiral as her son looked up, locking her gaze, said, “Mother, you think too much,” and returned to nuzzling his head in her jumper. She smiled. What a Human thing to say. “You said it not me, dear one,” she stated, happy in the knowledge that her son could flip her mood so easily. Confusion showed in Spock’s face, “That was clear, _ko-mekh_ , I am aware that I said it, I consciously instigated the action.” Amanda could almost hear his brain whirring, trying to understand her completely illogical, human colloquialisms. She sighed, and began to explain herself, “All I meant, was that you should take responsibility for your words, as they were so un-Vulcan. It’s not a bad thing,” she consoled as his eyes grew concerned, followed by embarrassed, “it interrupted the dark thoughts beginning to cloud my judgement. Thank-you _kan-bu_.” Spock appeared visibly relieved, his shoulders slumping where they had been tense. He smiled again, this time with less sadness, and kissed her cheek. He squeezed her once more, and straightened. He attempted to supress a yawn, but his lips parted in what Amanda could only describe as an adorable ‘o’ shape. “Bed-time for you, Mister Spock!” She said, poking him half-heartedly in the ribs. He squirmed, obviously ticklish, and replied, “Ma’am,” in a dead-pan, standing to attention and raising his hand in a salute. He about-turned, marched off into his bedroom, and shut the door with a quiet click. She sighed, surprised at how relaxed she had become, and slid off the cushy armchair she was sat on. She drifted into her bedroom, closing the door and laying on the bed, still fully clothed. She floated to sleep, comforted by the dreams of family that glided in from her subconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wasn't too sure about whether Spock should tell Amanda that he loves her in English or Vulcan, and then I didn't know whether to use 'mother', 'mum' or 'mummy', so I hope I didn't over-do it... The bit when Spock goes to bed was an idea I had that made me laugh, so I had to put it in, even if no one else likes it!


	4. Starfleet

They had disembarked from the ship successfully, avoiding any large crowds or noisy areas. Having left the shuttle-port, they were greeted by Starfleet personnel. A man stood with a woman at his side. Both were striking. The man, with piercing blue eyes and jet black hair, a tall, muscular build, accentuated by his tight-fitting, black professor’s uniform. The woman next to him boasted shoulder-length, shiny black hair, and pale blue eyes. He smiled, small but warm, and held out his hand. Amanda returned the smile and the handshake, introducing herself, “Hello, Sir. I am the Lady Amanda, and this is my son…” She was cut off by the man, abruptly but politely, as he turned his gaze to Spock, “Mister Spock. I am Lieutenant Christopher Pike, and this,” he gestured vaguely at the woman next to him, “is Number One.” The woman nodded courteously, but offered no further explanation. Spock’s eyes widened unperceptively to anyone but his mother and he raised his hand in the Vulcan salute, the Ta’al. His physiology was such that he had the sensitive hands of a Vulcan, and so it would have been unseemly for him to have used the Human greeting. Pike seemed to recognise this for what it was, and did not push further. Amanda’s smile widened slightly, reaching out to hold Spock protectively to her side, and returned her gaze to the man before her. Spock glanced up at her, but said nothing. Pike regarded them, seeming to come to a decision, before turning the woman introduced as ‘Number One’, “is the shuttlecar ready?” Again, her head bowed in an obvious positive, so the Lieutenant spoke to Amanda and Spock once more, “If you’d like to follow me?”

 

\  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \/  /   \  \ /  /

 

As the doors shut behind him, Spock was taken aback at the variety of colour visible in the view before him. Unsurprisingly, Vulcan was nothing like Earth, and Spock could understand why his mother had been so homesick. The second thing he noticed was the temperature. Spock was cold. Due to Vulcan being a much hotter planet than Earth, Vulcans have a lower body temperature. Thinking, Spock surmised that it was probably spring in San Francisco, as, by Earth standards, it was neither hot, nor cold. But there was life. Despite San Francisco being a city filled with skyscrapers, a modern-day metropolis, there was an abundance of it. There were birds of varying species, some low-flying, and some soaring amongst the roofs. There were plants; few and far-between, but where they were was beautiful. The shuttlecar necessitated that they be above ground, and so they were gifted with the ability to see Golden Gate Bridge and Golden Gate Park. The variances in the lives which could be seen there were also astonishing to Spock. There were men in suits, hurrying to their jobs or lunch-dates or families, whichever was most important. There were the women laden with shopping, some alone with expensive clothes and designer bags; and some in groups, raucous and happy, chatting and gossiping amongst themselves. The couples stood out the boldest to Spock, holding hands and looking out over the water., most standing shoulder to shoulder, the shorter with their head on the shoulder of the other, their stance depicting happiness and contentment. Spock almost let out a very unVulcan sigh. He knew his mother had noticed the same as him, and would be feeling Sarek’s loss keenly. He shuffled closer to her, not touching, but comforting all the same. He swivelled his head to look at the shuttlecar, following Lieutenant Pike, Number One and his mother into the passenger places.

 

As he sank into the plush seating, he inspected the Lieutenant and his accomplice again, wondering if there was anything he had missed. His mother, however, was on the offensive, saying, “So Lieutenant, you’re in Starfleet?” The man merely nodded, looking bemused. Amanda continued, “What prompted that idea?” Spock cringed inwardly at his mother’s blatant disregard for the man’s privacy. Much to his surprise, Pike answered, seemingly unperturbed, “Well Ma’am,” he began, but she interrupted, instructing him to call her Amanda. He acquiesced, carrying on, “Well, _Amanda_ , as a boy I was always fascinated by the stars. Somehow, a big ball of gas was giving somewhere the conditions for life. I wanted to know how, why and what I could do with the knowledge. Naturally _Star_ fleet sounded very appealing,” he concluded, his eyes glittering with badly hidden excitement. Amanda smiled, nodding. “So, what’s your focus?” If it were possible, his eyes seemed to glisten further as he stated proudly “command, but navigations second. Number One over her is my helmsman, or helmswoman I suppose, and when I’m Captain, she’ll be my First Officer.” Spock raised his eyebrow, sceptical that someone could have their life planned to such an extent. Spock did not even know what he wanted to study at school, he had so many interests. As if reading his thoughts, Pike moved his attention to him, “and Mister Spock. Do you have a focus?” Spock’s eyebrows knitted together as he carefully considered the question and how to answer it. He decided the bare truth would be the best option. “I am currently unsure as to what I shall be studying, as there are many subjects which I find to be… fascinating. Some examples include astrophysics, xenolinguistics, quantum mechanics, mathematics, philosophy and music.” Pike’s eyes widened comically at the list of ‘examples’ Spock provided him with. Number One still appeared nonplussed, seemingly a constant state of being for the regal-looking woman. “Music?” Pike queried, still bewildered. Spock merely nodded. Amanda, taking pity on the Lieutenant, added, “He plays the Vulcan equivalent of a lyre most beautifully,” with motherly pride in her voice. Spock’s face flushed a light green as he averted his gaze, while Pike looked at Amanda, gratitude in his eyes. “See, now that makes more sense! You left me floundering there!” Spock’s eyes lifted, filled with confusion, and a small amount of concern. Anticipating his next question, “no Spock,” she explained, “he wasn’t actually floundering, merely confused. It’s another illogical human idiom, I guess.” Spock’s face cleared. Mirth glinted in Amanda’s eyes, matching those of the Lieutenant and causing the corners of Spock’s mouth to twitch. Number One remained statue-like, a feat that would have impressed even a Vulcan.

 

Small talk made the rest of the journey pass quickly, with Pike and Amanda the only active participants in the conversation, Spock chiming in occasionally, and Number One remaining tacit. Soon enough Starfleet headquarters could be seen up ahead. The conversation dwindled as both Amanda and Spock focused their attentions on the impressive building coming into view. The glass glistened in the sunlight, making the building seem ethereal. The shuttle began to slow as they got closer to the shuttleport housed in the structure before them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I might have made Amanda too happy in this chapter, but I did not know what to do. Also, I was unsure as to what Pike's rank should be, as Spock was his first officer, but he seemed much older than Spock himself in 'The Cage'. In XI though he did not seem too much older, but I was not sure, so tell me if it does not seem to work.


End file.
